


The Tricks Dreams Play

by starsoverhead



Category: Criminal Minds, Marvel (Movies)
Genre: Crossover, Light Bondage, M/M, Manipulation, Mpreg, Questionable Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-27
Updated: 2012-07-27
Packaged: 2017-11-10 20:57:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/470609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsoverhead/pseuds/starsoverhead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aaron Hotchner severely underestimates Loki's effect on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tricks Dreams Play

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by my fish, Hotch and Loki, who still do mating dances at each other. Criminal Minds mixed into the Marvel ‘verse… Well, the fish insisted. Also, this goes back to Norse mythology, where Loki actually did bear at least one child.

A new voice had replaced the usual murmurs that haunted his dreams.  There was no gravel in this tone.  Only a sinuous smoothness, the accent warm, the words a purr that touched nerves that he’d not thought about in years.  Maddening - in a way that had him locking his door in the middle of the night so his son wouldn’t catch him with his hand down his underwear.  
  
Aaron knew knew he was caught up in something he couldn’t quite see.  The last thing he had ever wanted was to follow in Gideon’s footsteps and involve himself in an organisation beyond the FBI.  For Gideon, it had been the CIA, but thanks to a passing whisper into the ear of one Agent Coulson, he had found himself reviewing footage and files to build full profiles for each of the team members in a little thing called the Avengers Initiative.  
  
Apparently someone had informed Coulson he was a telepath.  He wasn’t as strong as Charles Xavier - not by far - but his mutation had seemed to include an extra layer of subtlety.  He had yet to hear of a single person he’d read knowing that he’d looked into their minds.  It made him good at his job, but all it had taken was that one whisper for him to become a target of more than murderers.  When he’d followed the lead into the warehouse, he’d become the target of a god.  
  
Anymore, he couldn’t remember if he’d been afraid or resigned when he had seen who was waiting for him.  He remembered that low, silky voice.  “Really, Agent Hotchner,” Loki had murmured.  “Do you really think that tiny little weapon will do anything to me?”  
  
Training had brought him to raise his service pistol, to aim, but then, in less time than a blink, his personal space had disappeared.  There were fingers wrapped around his gun - long, cool fingers that had taken the weapon and cast it away.  Hotch had never heard it land.  If it had, he had never found it once his mind had come back to reality from the fluttering sensation those fingers had sent from his hands to his stomach.  
  
He’d been briefed on Loki.  He had seen the footage, listened to the conversations, but the recordings didn’t compare.  Only in person could he appreciate just how much danger the Liesmith represented.  Only in person could he see how emerald green the trickster god’s eyes were, how lean and elegant his build was.  Only in person could he hear the true tone of his voice, whispering temptation without a hint to whether it was true or false.  And Aaron’s mind couldn’t let go of those infernal moments where, in a warehouse abandoned to the caress of entropy, Loki had made his mind wage a civil war.  
  
It had been his own hubris that had led him to try to read the mind of a god.  He had pushed with all of his power and yet his efforts had seemed to brush past Loki like nothing more than a breeze rippling fields of grain.  He could glean little - but what he found had left him in this quandary.  
  
That reading had left him breathless then, hidden behind his usual stoic expression, but now it had him thrashing in his bed, his subconscious painting the dilapidated warehouse into a place of romance, glowing with the golden sunlight of the afternoon, shafts of light from broken and clouded windows dancing with sparkles that were, in truth, nothing but puffs of dust.  Fantasy was taking over reality and all because his power had shown him that when Loki Liesmith, Laufeyson, Odinson, god of mischief and wielder of death, looked upon him, desire was foremost on his mind.  
  
“You live a life of duality, Agent Hotchner,” he had whispered so near to Aaron’s ear that it froze his spine and melted his blood, leaving his body in as much conflict as his mind.  “So private, you, with your neatly ordered lives.  Your lovely young son.  That team of agents you find has become your family.  And then all of that hidden power just beneath your strong brow…”  
  
Fingers had brushed his skin with the softness of mink.  Why, he’d wondered, had he expected calluses on the magician’s hands?  Those distracting, heart-speeding hands…  
  
With a moan, Aaron pushed back the sheets on his bed.  He knew better than this, but what man could resist?  Like so many Greek legends (if the Norse was true, was the Greek also?), he was desired by a god.  Justification ran rampant in his thoughts as he let his hand slide beneath his shirt, then past the waistband of his boxers.  
  
But then he smirked, closed his eyes, tipped back his head.  Telepaths learned quickly to fashion their own dreams or the dreams of others would encroach upon them, through walls and floors, through open windows, and lucid dreaming was exactly the skill he needed on a night like this.  
  
“What god of lies wouldn’t be drawn to such a liar as you?” Loki whispered and the breath that brushed his ear brought him to action.  This was his dream now.  Here, Loki had no power other than what Hotch granted and, with a smile suited to a predator, he granted Loki none.  
  
The dreamscape shifted around them in a wave, the rubble of the warehouse’s interior becoming what Aaron imagined Asgard must have been.  The sun’s afternoon light fell on fine stone and metal, shining gold and bronze in workmanship no human could ever accomplish.  Pillars stood tall, allowing passage between a balcony that looked out over the city of the Aesir and a bedroom fit for a prince in lush detail.  Curtains in snow white, nearly as transparent as the air that billowed them into foggy shapes, separated interior from exterior.  Curtains of velvet and satin, so carefully layered in Loki’s colours of black, gold, and green, were cinched to each of the bed’s posts, draping down the steps of its dais in seemingly careless disarray.  
  
Less than a thought in a dream and they were at that bed and Aaron had Loki’s wrists in his hands, holding his arms stiff at his sides.  “I can see through you, Loki,” he whispered, his voice a thinly-veiled hiss.  “It’s you who craves subjugation.”  
  
Eyes of shining green looked at him through thick, black eyelashes and God but Aaron could feel himself getting even harder.  “I crave your subjugation,” the god answered, voice low and roughened with the same desire that had Aaron’s blood running hot through his veins.  “Out of all of them, I would answer to you.”  
  
He was harsh in the kiss but Loki responded, his mouth opening to Aaron’s demands.  In so many years, he’d wanted no one the way he wanted this god, wanted him pleading, begging, arched and howling for Aaron’s touch.  He wanted the god of lies desperate for him, and in this dream, he would make it happen.  
  
His fingers pushed into the long, black hair and pulled Loki’s head back, exposing his throat and his pale, unmarked skin, and Aaron marked it with open mouth and teeth, drawing a cry of lust from the Liesmith’s lips.  The satisfaction only fed his confidence.  It took him only one hand to push Loki back onto the bed and he fell with such a startled expression that Aaron knew he would remember it for the rest of his life.  Startled, wanting, slightly hurt at being pushed away, but Aaron raised his hands to untie his tie.  This was his dream, he would have it how he wanted it.  
  
For a split second, his mind went back in time - back to a prison, to an interrogation room, where he had faced Chester Hardwick, where he had removed his jacket and tie in preparation to defend his (younger, more delicate, more heartwrenchingly innocent) coworker, and in that moment, he could see echoes of Loki in Hardwick.  The smugness, the menace—  
  
And then Loki was Reid, looking to him in panic and fear—  
  
And then Loki was beneath him, his wrists bound with the red striped tie to the headboard, gaze uncertain and slightly afraid.  “Don’t hurt me,” came the breathless voice.  “Please, I beg you…  Don’t hurt me.”  
  
“I won’t hurt you,” he whispered.  Loki was his now, bound by him, pressing against him, and Hotch could feel his arousal.  What kind of man was he now that he had power over a god?  His hands were gentle though his skin was rougher, unfastening buckles, pushing fabric away until Loki’s chest was bare to his eyes and his touch, and he spread kisses from collarbone to waistband.  
  
Under him, the god had begun to writhe, breathing to deepen and become ragged, and Aaron smiled as his lower lip grazed a pale nipple.  “You’re mine now.”  
  
“I’m yours,” Loki answered, arousal visible in his eyes and bound by the leather of his pants.  So easy, then, to bring those pants down, over hips with such a delicate curve, letting his erection have its freedom, and further down along legs that were nearly hairless.  On display as he was, Aaron saw what a lovely creature he had under his command.  Long limbed, narrow waisted, pale skinned.  He admired Loki openly, enjoying what was now his.  
  
His jacket joined Loki’s pants and boots on the floor, and soon so did his shirt and undershirt, his designer shoes.  When he joined his willing captive on the bed, he was more naked than Loki, what with the sleeves that still hid Loki’s arms.  His hands traced the god’s slender body, entranced at the smoothness of his skin, the muscles moving under his hands.  Loki’s back arched as Aaron’s hand caressed his thigh.  His to do with as he wanted.  His to enjoy.  
  
If this weren’t a dream—  
  
If this weren’t a dream, he wouldn’t be doing this.  If this weren’t a dream, he would be fighting for his life, but this was his dream and he could let his lust do as he wanted here.  He parted Loki’s thighs and settled himself there.  “Are you ready?” Aaron asked, mouth brushing Loki’s jaw.  
  
The answer was a nod and moan.  “Yes.  Yes, Aaron, I want you inside me.”  
  
Of course he was a god.  He had control over his body and this wouldn’t hurt him.  Such logic always made perfect sense in a dream, and with that false logic firmly in place, Aaron pushed into him.  It was heat and cold at once and he hissed his next intake of breath, teeth grazing Loki’s shoulder as his (frail, human) body grew used to the sensation.  He had been without this for far too long.  He wanted this, needed it, just as much as the person below him.  His hands tightened on Loki’s waist, his body resting heavily on the god’s as he caught his breath.  
  
How long he rested there he didn’t know but when he opened his eyes again it was to Loki’s plaintive voice.  “Aaron… Aaron, don’t tease me, please…  Please, my lord, move.  Please.  I need you.  You’ll drive me mad.”  
  
“More than you already are?”  But with a kiss and light bite to one hard nipple, he did as he was begged and he moved.  “Wrap your legs around me or I’ll stop again.”  
  
Obediently, those long, lovely legs wrapped around him, knees hooking at his hips as he started to move in earnest, lips tracing a heated trail up Loki’s neck as for a few breathless moments, the body beneath him was Haley on their sofa in the house that they’d once shared, a yearbook tossed aside as both of them were caught in the magic that had brought them together, skin against skin with a light sheen of sweat…  He moaned, catching Loki’s mouth in a searing kiss.  His fingers tangled into black hair once more as, with the other hand, he loosed the tie that had kept Loki’s hands captive.  
  
There were fingernails scraping down his back in long lines and Aaron’s back arched, pushing him even deeper into Loki’s body than he’d been before.  His hand, feeling clumsy in comparison, moved between them to take the god’s erection in hand and stroke in time to his thrusts.  
  
“Yes,” moaned the Liesmith, breathing heavily and Hotch dug his fingers into the god’s hips.  There were hands all over him, from the small of his back to threaded into his hair and it had been so long, far too long—  
  
He felt himself being turned over, falling to his back while Loki sat up astride him and moved, long-fingered hands splayed on Aaron’s chest after his remaining clothing was tossed away.  “God bless lucid dreaming,” he groaned, reaching over his own head for the leverage the headboard could offer.  Above him, Loki bent back, a hand braced against Aaron’s thigh as the other stroked his length.  Showing off for him, Aaron thought and smiled a feral, approving smile as he watched.  
  
“This is yours.”  Loki’s sinuous voice was broken with pants for breath and the sound just edged Hotch closer and closer to his climax.  Soon.  So soon now, with these sensations, this sight before him.  And then Loki’s head tossed back, his throat showing his hair falling in waves past his shoulders, and Aaron could feel the tightness of muscle around him clenching in time with the spurts of seed that dotted his chest and stomach.  
  
He had done that.  He had brought a god to orgasm.  The power and the tightness triggered his own and he felt the strands of the dream slipping away in the heights of his release - but not a moment too soon.  
  
When he opened his eyes, his bedroom was around him once more and he felt as if he’d just dropped from some height.  The covers were mussed around him and he could feel a telltale stickiness against his skin, his T-shirt up around his chest, his boxers around his knees.  Oh God, he had to do that again.  It was better than having a sex life, dreams like that.  
  
He waited until he could catch his breath before he arranged his clothes and took himself to the bathroom to clean up.  Oh yes.  Yes, he was definitely doing that again.  And maybe next time the dream would actually go how he’d intended it.  The thought of driving Loki mad with desire was still a stirring idea.  
  
Across town in a warehouse lit silver by the moon, Loki reclined on a sofa that was the last remnant of the environment that magic had crafted.  Nothing like his old quarters in Asgard, but the man’s imagination had to be indulged.  Telepaths, Loki had found, were the easiest, but this one - ah, this one was special.  His ties to SHIELD made him particularly useful.  Placed perfectly, with sympathies that could be played upon.  
  
With just a few more “dream visits”, Loki could be certain he carried Agent Hotchner’s child.  Then it would be a simple matter of visiting that world that was not so far away, where decades could pass within a number of weeks so his child, his pawn, could be used against those who would see him destroyed.  
  
One did not underestimate the trickster and Agent Hotchner would learn that firsthand.  
  
With a contented smile, he dressed himself, his hand lingering over his stomach.  “Soon,” he murmured.  “Very soon.  If I’d known it would be so easy…”  But he let the words die away into a chuckle.  His plans were so easily coming together.


End file.
